


mutualism

by elektra



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabble, Nonbinary Ulquiorra, Other, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 17:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elektra/pseuds/elektra
Summary: “Even if you didn’t approve my laboratory, Cuarta, is there anyone else in this castle who could replace me? Anyone at all to fathom even half of the work I do?”





	mutualism

Ulquiorra is waiting in the foyer of Szayel Aporro’s laboratory, expecting a tour for the inspection Aizen mandated them with. If they’re unpleased with the long leash that the Octava’s been given, they’ll yank him back to heel. Perhaps find someone else to continue his duties, should he be a veritable waste of time.

As it stands, he’s still a new addition; they’ve not met him past attendance to the last few Espada gatherings. From those alone they sense that the day will be a trying one.

Finally, Szayel emerges from a door at the end of the hall, folding a pair of clear eyeglasses into his coat pocket. He shakes his hair out of a tie, leaving it in a mess. “My deepest apologies for keeping you. It was simply imperative that my laboratory complete its sanitization process before I allowed any visitors. I’m sure you understand that carrying out one’s obligations to perfection is paramount.”

He is clearly expecting Ulquiorra to reply. In lieu of their silence, now crossed the hall and standing before them, he extends one gloved hand daintily to save face. “– Szayel Aporro Granz. I don’t believe we’ve been officially acquainted.”

Ulquiorra’s eyes flicker between it and his slowly souring expression. He should get used to them, and with haste. They won’t coddle him as he learns to traverse the terrain of Las Noches. If another Espada decides to rip his hand off the next time he attempts this, it’ll be his defect. After all, he’s supposed to be clever.

Szayel clears his throat and folds his hands behind his back. “Let’s begin, I suppose.”

He’s chatty as he shows them each level and function of his laboratory. Eventually Ulquiorra becomes lost in his droning and ignores most of it. They aren’t required to know any of the details – only know that he hasn’t misspent any of Aizen’s efforts to equip him. He seems impassioned with much of his work. Or he’s an excellent thespian. A bit of both, perhaps.

“Here,” when they reach the the main laboratory floor, he gestures to a machine that is rapidly spinning a few vials beneath a glass case. “I’m in the process of creating my own fracción. Fully synthetic hollow who will be, without fail, loyal to me. I can’t possibly leave anything in the hands of those who will let me down.”

Ulquiorra concurs.

He directs them around several more stations before concluding the excursion. “Now,” he leans against one of the glass tables, beside a monitor swimming with numbers. “I’m inclined to ask what you think.”

Not a complete waste of time. At the very least, he’s dedicated and efficient.

Ulquiorra puts out their open palm. He raises an eyebrow.

“Give me the list.” The first thing they’ve said to him.

Szayel Aporro breaks out into a grin as he picks up the thick pile of documents next to his hip, turning it over to them. It’s a manifest of all the equipment and restock he needs, its fulfillment contingent on their permission. He keeps them there with one hand still on the papers.

“Even if you didn’t approve my laboratory, Cuarta, is there anyone else in this castle who could replace me? Anyone at all to fathom even half of the work I do?”

No. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Yes,” they say, because they aren’t fond of his ego. He hasn’t deserved it yet.

He simply roves his eyes over them for a few quiet seconds, wearing a smile that is simultaneously serene and devious, and lets go. “I suppose then I’ll just have to work very hard to impress you, hm?”

Not them. It’s Aizen he should concern himself with – they’re only his attack dog. But whatever keeps Szayel in line, so be it.

Ulquiorra turns to leave without another spared minute, confident enough that they’ll be able to return to the desert without leaving any rubble in their wake.

“Mind your step,” he calls after them. “It may have slipped my mind to deactivate some trap doors. There’s so many of them, you see!”


End file.
